Not Ready to Make Nice
by JimKeller24
Summary: Set between seasons 3 and 4. Tony finds a way to get his old job back, only to clash heads with Michelle.
1. Prologue, Part 1

Alright, so it's been a really long time since I've written anything, but every now and then, my shipper heart acts up on me and this is the result... If you like the story, feel free to leave a review. Also leave one if you don't like it.

Disclaimer: The credit for the title goes to the Dixie Chicks, the characters belong to FOX.

Note: This is set about four years after season 3 and doesn't take season 4 into account.

Tony Almeida stood at the window of the spacious hotel suite, cigarette in his hand, staring off into the distance. It was raining and the dark gray skies outside reflected his state of mind perfectly. Twenty minutes had passed since he had seen her again, for the first time in over three years. She'd been furious, to say the least, when she'd found out that she would have to share this very suite with him for the next three days. She'd called him everything, cursed him, scolded him for his drinking, blamed this twisted situation on him. He'd just stood there, nodded a little, hanging his head, knowing that in a way, she was right. It was his fault they couldn't look at each other anymore, couldn't have a decent conversation without yelling at each other or even force a smile in each other's presence. It wasn't his fault they had to share a hotel room, though. That had been District director Vaughn's call. Like everyone, he knew about their past, but he also knew they had, once upon a time, assured Ryan Chappelle they would never let their personal relationship get in the way of work matters. For better or worse. That'd been a time when they thought 'worse' would never come. When they'd been naive enough to believe their relationship was made for eternity. He let out a bitter laugh, thinking about how stupid it seemed now.

He took another drag and heard a keycard open the door. _"Oh great"_ he thought as he heard muffled steps towards him. _"Here we go..."_ Much to his surprise, he didn't get yelled at this time.

"You're smoking again?" It was more of a statement than a question. He just nodded yet again and heard her sigh. "Do you have one for me?" He still didn't say anything, but instead turned around, reached into the front pocket of his shirt and threw her the almost empty pack. She thanked him and he watched her light the cigarette and step towards the window, right beside him.

"You?" he just asked, hoping that deep down inside, she still knew what he meant.

Now it was her turn to just nod sadly. She wanted to say something, but decided against it, knowing that if she told him now when she had started smoking again, she would be vulnerable. Something she couldn't deal with now. For the next couple of days, she had to be strong, distant, maybe even cold. She couldn't let her guard down, not now, not with him. She certainly couldn't tell him that it had been seeing him in an orange jumpsuit in court had been the one thing that had driven her back to her nicotine addiction.


	2. Prologue, Part 2

Disclaimer: Tony and Michelle still belong to FOX, the original character in this chapter is my invention.

Note: This chapter takes place 14 months after the end of season 3, which, in my timeline equals 2 months post-divorce.

It was another one of those days. He would get up way past noon, have breakfast, plop down in front of the TV and start drinking. There really wasn't much else left to do. He was feeling too depressed to work out, he was too much of a coward to kill himself and no boss in his right mind wanted to hire him. Contrary to what Michelle might have been thinking, the reason he didn't have a job wasn't his drinking, it was his resumé that ruined everything, every time. No matter how much he hoped and prayed, everybody asked the dreaded question at some point: "Why did you leave your last job?" There wasn't any point in lying – the security firms he had applied at would have done a background check anyway and the jobs he could get without anybody digging into his past were the ones he didn't want. He'd never admitted it to Michelle – but he wasn't desperate enough to do _any_ job offered to him, like the one at the grocery store, where everybody could see him and would certainly start talking.

While CTU had done its best to keep the story of the irresponsible, selfish agent who'd rather save his wife than innocent civilians off the front pages, there had been some coverage on the internet and local newspapers. Tony knew it was his fault people on the streets had been pointing at them and whispering, every time they left the house together. Ultimately, he'd been convinced Michelle had been been ashamed of him and just used his drinking as a lame excuse to walk out.

It was his ringing cell phone that snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced at his watch – Who the hell needed to talk to him at 10 p.m.?

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Agent Almeida?" _A man, mid-thirties to mid-forties, probably a pretty big guy. _It shot through his mind. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, his mind was still an agent.

"He's not here. Do you wanna leave a message?"

"Very funny, Agent. Or do you like 'First Lieutenant Almeida' better?" the man insisted. Now he had Tony's attention.

Tony laughed bitterly. "Nobody's called me that in over 10 years. Come on, who are you? What do you want?"

The man seemed to smile. "Oh, a lot. But let me make it brief – I want you to get your ass back in gear and do something for your country."

"Yeah? I think I've done enough for my country. And last time I checked, my country didn't give a shit about my help. So thanks, but no, thanks."

"What if I told you that this is quid pro quo - if you do something for me, I will do something for you."

"Like what?" Tony scoffed. "Give me a great job at a junkyard? Maybe an entire year's supply of Doritos?"

The man ignored his sarcasm. "Like... make sure you could have one more shot at a career with the CIA... or any other U.S. intelligence agency of your choice, for that matter. Isn't that what you want? Your old life back? Now, I can't tell your ex-wife to come running back to you, but I do have quite some control over what happens with the other part of your life."

Tony shook his head in disbelief. "No... no, my law enforcement career is over. It was over the second that I... There's no way I can go back, that's the one job I can't have anymore. They would do background checks and I..."

"You were an excellent soldier. In 1990, you had just turned 18 and all you had on your mind was to help your country. In just 4 years, you made it all the way up to First Lieutenant. That's impressive."

"I know my life, but thank you."

"What I'm saying is – there's always work for good people like you." He paused, apparently trying to give him a few seconds to consider.

"Alright, go ahead."

"Not over the phone. Meet me at the public payphone at the corner of Taylor and Vine in 45 minutes. You know where that is, don't you?"

Tony thought for a moment and remembered. It was the same payphone Saunders had ordered him to. He mumbled "son of a bitch" into the phone, but the man had already hung up.

_40 minutes later_

Tony was nervously tapping his feet and looking around, all the while trying to tune out the cold wind and the somewhat creepy atmosphere. The same questions kept echoing in his mind. _Who is this guy? Who does he work for? _He squared his shoulders and tried to stifle a yawn, failing miserably.

A couple of minutes later, a black Chrysler 300 pulled up next to him. Instinctively, he took a small step back and felt for the gun he'd decided to bring. His right hand still behind his back, feeling the cold metal of the Beretta 9000, Tony watched as a man about his age got out on the driver's side and made his way towards him.

"Agent Almeida." He greeted him with a hint of a smile on his face. As he stepped closer, the broken street light made it possible for him to finally see the man. About 6'2", muscular build, angular face, clean-shaven, close cropped hair – he looked like a bad cliché from an action movie.

"Who are you?" Tony asked him, this time choosing to ignore the 'Agent' part.

"My name is Richard Hartley, I work with the Director of National Intelligence. I have been authorized to talk to you on his behalf."

Tony nodded. _So that explains why he knows everything from my military record to the damn payphone._ "Uh-huh. And what does he want? And don't say 'my help', 'cause that's what you told me over the phone and that's not really a satisfying answer."

"I understand that. You see, there are certain individuals the U.S. government would rather not have to deal with. Unfortunately, most of these individuals either have no official criminal record or they're shielded by their respective countries. Or they're dirty agents within our own ranks, all U.S. citizens..." Hartley let the sentence trail off.

"...Either of which means you can't lay a hand on them. And you want me to do your dirty work." Tony finished. "If I ever get caught, nobody knows anything about any involvements with the government... No political consequences if an ex-agent goes ballistic and kills people, right?"

Hartley looked him in the eyes. "You got it."

"What would I have to do to get my job back?"

He laughed. "You can't have your job back, just like that. It's not that easy. You had a Level 6 clearance, they're not gonna give you that back because you killed a couple of crooks. You would have to earn their trust, just like you had to do it years ago. Closest I could get you to your old job is maybe heading up field operations at CTU."

"Maybe? That's not enough."

"Listen, Almeida." Hartley took a step closer to him and looked him straight in the eyes. "This is your decision. This is your last shot to get back to intelligence work. You either take it or you don't. If you do what we tell you to do, I promise I will do my best to get you back to where you wanna be."

Tony looked down in thought and bit his lip, like he always did when he was nervous. It was either this or returning to the alcohol, the stupid soccer games and the slowly emptying checking account. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

Hartley nodded. "Very well. Then the car's yours now." He threw him the keys. "It's got everything you need in the trunk. Good luck, Agent." Hartley started walking away.

"I'm not an..." Tony protested.

Hartley turned. "You don't have a badge. But that's not what it takes, you should know that." With a smile, he turned around and disappeared into the darkness.

Tony walked over to the car he had left him and opened the trunk to see what "everything you need" included. On first sight, it looked like a CTU vehicle. A cell phone, a GPS navigation system, holsters, bulletproof vests, silencers, various guns. Two 9mm Beretta 92F, two .45 caliber Colt M1911, a a .38 caliber Smith and Wesson model 60 revolver, two different sniper rifles. Tony gulped when he compared the firearms with those issued by CTU. These weren't the weapons of a government agent, these were the weapons of a professional assassin – common guns with common calibers, almost untraceable. Suddenly he felt an uneasiness creep over him and tried to shake off the feeling with a couple of deep breaths, only to be interrupted by a text message that included no more than a name, an address and a picture.


	3. Wake Up

Pairing: Tony/Michelle  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Timeline: AU, set about four years after season 3, ignoring season 4.

Author's Note: I had really hoped to make this chapter a little longer, but it didn't really work out that way, so... this is just a little something for you until chapter 4 is done. Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!

Disclaimer: They're not mine, they're FOX's.

_"Why doesn't this country have enough money to get us single rooms?"_ Tony thought as he lay awake the first night of the National Counterterrorism Convention, an annual get-together of the country's most obnoxious law enforcement officials that he'd started hating the first time he'd attended it. He remembered putting his disdain on hold only when Michelle had been his second in command and his partner for events like this one. Oddly enough, it was her who made the whole thing seem worse than torture now.

He looked up and saw her sleeping silhouette in the faint background lights of the city, her straight hair on the pillow, her chest rising and falling. Seeing her in this state, he was finding it harder than ever to hate her. Feeling a lump forming in his throat, he quickly turned away from her, changing his position for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night, and closed his eyes. He wasn't even supposed to be here. The people he would meet in the morning, they'd all gotten their positions through commendations and years of distinguished service to the country. He'd gotten back in by killing people the government wanted to get rid of. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn't killed anybody. He'd murdered them. One night, he'd looked up the difference - killing somebody meant being able to justify the action in some way. 'Murdering' was killing someone without any possible justification or defense, which was exactly what he'd been doing for so long, just to get a job back that made him miserable right now.

The next morning he awoke to an alarm that clearly wasn't his. He sat up and looked over at Michelle, who didn't seem to be bothered at all by the mechanical beeping from her phone.

"Michelle, wake up!" he said harshly. "Michelle!" he repeated, louder than before.

She stirred. "Hmm?"

"You mind turning off that piece of shit?" he snarled.

"What exactly is your problem, Tony?"

"My problem is that you set an annoying alarm for yourself and I'm the one who has to wake you up. I'm not your wake-up service."

Not quite knowing what to say, she turned off the alarm, got out of bed and slammed the bathroom door shut behind her. Tony glanced at his watch and sighed when it showed 6:00 a.m. The day had barely started and it already seemed impossible to get through it.

When Michelle emerged from the bathroom about 15 minutes later, she was still furious. "You know what? You don't talk to me like that. We're gonna be stuck stuck here for three days. I hate this just as much as you do, believe me. But I won't run to Vaughn and complain - and you know why? Because I'm a professional. And once upon a time, you were, too. If you can't handle an alarm in the morning, go ahead, give up. I know you're good at that." Not wanting to give him another chance for rebuttal, she walked out of the room, leaving him to deal with his anger.

_"How dare he__ speak to me like that?" _she thought to herself while she was gulping down a cup of coffee and some yogurt, hoping to finish breakfast before he made it downstairs. It wasn't her fault the alarm didn't wake her. Still, she didn't understand how he'd gone from the quiet pain and trying to calm his nerves with cigarettes to a angry jerk who wanted to rip her head off. And what was he doing here anyway? Of course she knew the basic facts - he was there as the head of field operations of the San Diego office and, like everybody else, he was going to give a speech on some vaguely counterterrorism related topic and hope nobody would start snoring. But hadn't it been made very clear that he couldn't work for the government anymore?

Upstairs, Tony was standing in the bathroom, also trying to figure out what exactly had made him lose his temper in this awful way. "_Calm down, Almeida, you didn't get enough sleep and her alarm's to blame. Not surprising and no reason to feel guilty." _he kept telling himself, but deep down knowing it was just a diversion. He knew she was a deep sleeper and once upon a time, he'd been able to understand.

_**Flashback**_

_It __had been the first day they were expected back at CTU after their honeymoon. He'd taken some shortcuts on his morning run, hoping to come home and catch Michelle in the shower. Instead, when he opened the bedroom door, he found her in their bed sound asleep. He crossed the few feet to their bed quickly and knelt beside her. _

_Gently, he brushed some unruly curls out of her face and whispered her name. "Michelle. Baby, wake up." After repeating himself several times, he realized whispering wasn't going to work. Instead, he decided to tickle her neck slightly and kissed her on the forehead._

_"Sweetheart, wake up. You're supposed to be getting ready for work right about now." Like she'd been struck by lightning, she sat up straight and looked at him wide-eyed. _

_"What? How... How late is it?"_

_"6:55 a.m."_

_"Oh, crap..." She rubbed her face, desperately trying to keep her eyes open. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"_

_"Well, you had your alarm set, so I went out for a run. But I guess you didn't hear it." he said, failing to hide his amusement at the picture in front of him. His wife, sitting in their bed with her hair all over the place, wearing his polo shirt, still half-asleep and utterly confused by her surroundings... And she'd never looked so adorable. _

_He leaned in and kissed her, which promptly earned him a slap on his arm. "Tony..." she protested half-heartedly. "We have to go, we can't just be late on our first day back..." _

_"You know," he murmured in between kisses. "I'm pretty sure your boss will understand."_

_"Mmm... you really think so?" She broke the kiss and looked at him._

_"I guess. I mean, he's usually a pretty reasonable guy... Incredibly handsome, too. And I have sources telling me he's an excellent lover." _

_"__You are so full of yourself!" she laughed. "But... I really need to know how reliable your sources are."_

He smiled sadly as he remembered they'd been an hour late that day and gotten a verbal spanking from Chappelle, but as far as he remembered, it had been worth it.

_"Stop it." _he scolded himself._ "There's no point in remembering all that stuff, cause she obviously doesn't care about what we had, so just leave it alone." _Still, he sensed that 'leaving it alone' wouldn't be as easy as it sounded in his head. Throwing on his suit jacket, he headed downstairs, hoping to squeeze in a decent breakfast before the first bunch of people were scheduled to deliver their speeches.


	4. Truce

Pairing: Tony/Michelle  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Notes: AU, set about four years after season 3, ignoring season 4.

Disclaimer: They're not mine, they're FOX's. I also borrowed a character from another FOX show for this chapter.

Two and half hours later, Tony found himself getting antsy during Michelle's speech. He glanced at the program again - "Interagency cooperation and its importance for aviation security". At least there was going to be a break after that. He had to admit, it was a fairly intriguing topic and her speech was certainly one of the interesting ones of the morning, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Michelle didn't really agree with everything she was saying. It was like she'd pushed aside everything he'd ever taught her, everything they'd worked on over the years. He suspected she wouldn't volunteer any information, so he stood up and raised his hand.

"Excuse me, Miss Dessler?" he said, trying to maintain a professional tone.

"Yes, Mister...?" she played along.

"Anthony Almeida, CTU San Diego." he answered. "It's always been my understanding that if there's an imminent terrorist threat, it'd be best to hold off, possibly create a diversion until the nearest SWAT or CTU field ops unit can be on site, instead of trying to let airport police handle it. At least, that's what I was trained to do and I'm sure you were, too."

Michelle gulped. He was putting her in an impossible situation. If she didn't completely manage to stick to the facts, the largely male audience would probably think of her as some poor women with hormonal imbalances. "Yes, that is what I was trained to do, Mr. Almeida. Still, recent drills have shown that the success of an airport mission depends much more on response time than on expertise of the people involved. Airport police has a clear advantage in that area."

Tony let out a cynic chuckle. "Well, drills are called that for a reason. They have absolutely nothing to do with real life circumstances. And while I appreciate all your simulations, the downsides of using airport police against suspects are very clear. Didn't LAX police lose two of their men last month, to someone who was trying to smuggle an Egyptian artifact into the country? And that guy had been alone, armed with nothing but a knife. So imagine what would happen if they were up against mercenaries or even terrorists."

He knew her too well, knew that this was the part of her speech she'd had trouble with. The changes and suggestions had come from Hammond's office and now he'd gotten to her. Still, she managed to take a deep breath and keep her voice level. "Mr. Almeida, I'm aware of your opinion on this subject and I can promise you, I will look into your concerns. But my speech was written with all the information and statistics I had from simulations and right now, there are no inconsistencies and absolutely nothing to invalidate them."

Tony wasn't satisfied with the answer, but he also knew better than to push her any further. Instead, he just nodded and silently thanked her before sitting down again.

During the break, he left the auditorium in search of the vending machine people he'd heard people talk about, only to find it in the basement next to the restroom doors. Still disturbed by the location, he didn't hear someone approaching him, before Michelle's - very loud - voice made him turn around.

She cornered him and poked his chest with her index finger. "What the hell were you thinking, Tony? Were you trying to kill my career? Or were you just going for slight embarrassment? This is probably the most important stepping stone for people in our line of work and you made me look like a goddamn rookie! You were _way_ outta line!"

Tony returned her angry glare. "Oh, I was out of line? You were up there telling a very romantic story of interagency cooperation that you know wouldn't work in real life. All that at a conference where people still think Los Angeles CTU is one of the best branches in the country! Where everybody knows I basically trained everybody there ever since Mason became director, including you! You know better than what you said up there and I'd like to know why you said stuff only a rookie would say, long before I ever asked anything. Cause from where I was sitting, it looked like you were trying to please someone way above you with absolutely no tactical knowledge."

_"__Bull's eye", _she thought. How had he been able to figure that out so quickly? Was she that much of an open book? Then she remembered was giving a speech on "detecting deception attempts in trained operatives" and blamed it on that instead. If he could get information from a terrorist who didn't even speak English in a matter of minutes, he would sure as hell be able to know what his ex-wife was thinking.

She shook her head and moved dangerously close to him again. "How dare you? I am not selling out, I am telling people what I believe is the best way to handle a certain situation. We've conducted drills and test runs, and all of that won't convince you, why - cause I left you?"

That was the last straw for him. She wanted to get personal? She could have it. "Bullshit!" He lowered his voice slightly so not everybody exiting the restrooms would know every detail of their fight. "Just think about it - maybe you could convince me that you were telling the truth in any way. Maybe if you remembered that I'm not some random person you just met, but the person you had once promised to spend the rest of your life with! Maybe you could convince me if you didn't sound like a total ass-kisser!"

He had expected to get a very angry answer, but not this. She slapped him so hard that he tumbled backwards toward the wall. He hadn't even adjusted to the burning in his cheek when he saw her hand rise again. He reacted quickly though, grabbing her by the wrist and spinning her around so she was now up against the wall, with him in her face, yelling at her.

"Will you just stop trying to hit me, for Christ's sakes?" She looked at him wide-eyed, with nothing but fear in her eyes. He loosened his grip on her wrist and backed away slightly. With the sudden realization of what he'd done, he released her hands and took another step back. Ashamed, he looked at the floor, scratching the back of his neck with his right hand. "I... I don't know... I..." he stammered, barely able to hold his voice steady. He leaned against the wall, buried his face in his hands and heard her leaving towards the women's restroom.

Exhaling sharply, he bought himself a bottle of water for his own speech and made his way back up to the auditorium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats." he heard the announcer say, but it all sounded like it was far away.

He cleared his throat. "Good afternoon everybody. My name is Anthony Almeida, I'm the current director of field operations at CTU San Diego. As such, a large part of my job is interrogating suspects in the field and training recruits for it." He held his breath for a moment, trying to find Michelle in the audience. He had to blink several times in the bright spotlights and ultimately found her seat. It was empty. He took a sip of his water, trying to regain his composure. "Uhm... As most of you know, one of the biggest challenges in counterterrorism work today is the increasing number of highly trained hostile operatives. Now, these people aren't likely to talk, no matter the amount of pressure they're under, no matter the amount of pain we cause them. Which is why I have worked together closely with the country's leading experts on nonverbal communication and micro-expressions, Dr. Cal Lightman and his team at The Lightman Group in D.C., to create a slimmed-down version of the Facial Action Coding System for special use in intelligence work."

After an hour-long lecture working with what seemed like an endless amount of PowerPoint slides, the audience seemed to have found their new hero. People from all over the country congratulated Tony on his fantastic idea to work with a private firm that already held FBI credentials, but he didn't care. He'd been thrilled at first when he'd been chosen to go to Boston and give his own speech, the first thing he'd been proud of in a long time. Now it didn't matter, he needed to apologize to Michelle - but first, he needed to find her. She hadn't shown up during the course of his speech and she hadn't shown up to pick up her suitcase backstage.

Tony took the briefcase and headed upstairs, knowing the rest of the afternoon's speakers wouldn't care he was gone.

He slowly opened the door and stood in the short hallway of the suite before peeking around the corner where the bed stood. Michelle was lying on her side of the bed, but he couldn't tell if she was sleeping or not. He walked towards the bed, but stopped a couple of feet away from it.

"Michelle?" he asked quietly as he took off his jacket and tossed it over a chair. "You awake?"

"Yeah." she answered, knowing she'd only be able to hide her feelings for so long.

"I... I brought you your briefcase. You'd left it downstairs."

"Thanks." she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Still in his suit pants and t-shirt, Tony sat down on his side of the bed and leaned against the headboard. He'd come upstairs wanting to apologize and now he was speechless. First she'd been afraid of him and now she was curled up in bed and had obviously been crying. What was he supposed to do now? A couple of years ago, he would've scooted over and hugged her, but he clearly couldn't do that now.

"Michelle, look, I..." he sighed, desperately searching for words. "I'm... I just wanted to apologize. For losing my temper before. And this morning. I... you were right, I _was_ out of line. I... I'm sorry." Against his better judgment, he touched her shoulder gently, but she flinched away.

"What?" he just whispered. "I'm sorry, I know I'm probably the last person you want in the room right now, but I was just trying to apologize."

"I know." she whispered back. "I'm sorry."

"Before, downstairs I mean, you... you were absolutely terrified of me. You've seen me angry before, but that... I think you overreacted just as much as I did."

"I don't think I did."

"I just thought we could agree..."

"I KNOW!" she said, way louder than she had planned and turned around to face him. "You just... Are you really wondering why I was that upset before? Why I 'overreacted'?

He shrugged, an uneasy feeling creeping through him. "Yeah."

She took a deep breath. "The night before I left... You were on the couch, drunk, of course. And I... I was sick of it. I wanted to go somewhere with you, anywhere, as long as it wasn't inside a two-mile radius around our house. Movies, dinner, just a walk in the park, but you didn't care. You just wanted to stay home with your bottle of beer and watch stupid Mexican soccer games. So I turned off the TV and begged you to come with me. And you... You just started yelling at me and then you... pushed me against the wall and..." she trailed off.

"That's exactly what I did today." he finished, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach.

Michelle nodded. "Still think I overreacted?"

Tony gulped and shook his head in disgust. "No. You..." he felt tears stinging in the back of his eyes. "Leaving was the right thing to do."

"What?" she asked in slight disbelief of what she'd just heard.

"Yeah, I... was ruining your life. I didn't leave the house, I didn't want you to go out... What else would you call that?" He hung his head.

"Don't be melodramatic. You... you were busy with yourself, you had to... adjust." She tried to explain.

He sat up again and looked at her. "But if you knew that, why didn't you give more time?

"I had given you more than enough chances, but you weren't there. You barely touched me and when we made love, you couldn't even look me in the eyes anymore. There's this old saying - _'the opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.'_ That's what it felt like to me."

He stared at her blankly. "Still..." he protested weakly, knowing full well he'd just tried to argue against something he'd agreed with 30 seconds ago.

"Tony, I was 28 years old when we got divorced. I didn't know what to do with an alcoholic at home, and there was nobody who could give me any advice. My mom hated you anyway, my dad was at a loss just like me and most of my friends weren't even seriously involved with anyone. I couldn't handle it anymore, I..."

"You had to save yourself." he stated, without any emotion present, neither in his voice nor in his face.

She smiled at him sadly. "You know, I really.. really wish it would've worked out with us, I do. Cause all that crap aside, you're still the best man I've ever known."

"A drunk ex-con is the best man you've ever known? You really have a bad track record." he laughed bitterly.

"I do, but that's not the point. I was actually referring to the man who saved my life, knowing it would cost him everything." She took another deep breath. "And sometimes I wonder how we even made it that far. I mean, in our line of work, with both of us doing field work, the CTU bombing..."

He returned her sad smile. "Yeah, it's surprising we're still alive..." He bit his lower lip. "And maybe someday... we'll be able to have a normal conversation, without any kind of aggression getting in the way."

"I'd like that." she smiled again, an honest smile this time. "You think we could try that here, for the next two days. I think there's some people who already think we're nuts."

"Yeah, I think we could try that." He reached out with his right hand. "Truce?"

She shook his hand. "Truce."


	5. Drink On It

Pairing: Tony/Michelle  
>Rating: PG-13 (L)<br>Notes: AU, set about four years after season 3, ignoring season 4.

Disclaimer: They're not mine, they're FOX's. Title of this chapter is based on a Blake Shelton song. Any mentioned brands aren't owned by me either.

The next morning, Tony went downstairs for breakfast, hoping that the awkwardness of the day before had faded slightly due to their agreement.

He spotted Michelle sitting at a table close to the buffet and walked over, after realizing the empty spot at her table was one of only two left in the room. And he certainly wouldn't sit with those buffoons from Seattle.

He lingered behind the empty chair and smiled uncomfortably. "Good morning, Michelle."

"Good morning, Tony", she retorted robotically, clearly busy reading the news of the day on her cell phone.

"D'you mind if I..." he started, finally drawing her attention. After a short moment of confusion, she shook her head and smiled politely. "No, it's fine, sit down."

"I got you some coffee... saw your cup was empty when I walked in."

"Oh, thank you. Is there...?"

"Milk, two sugars. And yes, it's whole milk and not skim."

She smiled and nodded. "Still remember that, huh?"

"I also know that you're gonna leave that cup sitting there for at least ten minutes before you drink it. Y'know, cause cold coffee's so much better." he added sarcastically, but instantly feared it might've been pushing too far too soon.

She took a deep breath, cocked her head and bit her lower lip lightly. "Well, Mr. 'not gonna drink my coffee below the boiling point', I think you might be biased on that issue."

He chuckled, relieved that she'd played along. "Yeah, you're right, I might be."

"So..." she started, trying not to let any silence get between them. "Interesting day today, huh?"

"Well... I can't stand those defense contractors praising their own products, I'm happy with the stuff we use, so I'm more looking forward to the spare time we get. Haven't really seen much of the city except for the airport, including that awful landing strip. I thought we were all gonna drown."

She smiled, remembering flying to Boston for the first time and seeing nothing but water right until the plane touched down. "You're gonna like it."

"And why's that?"

"Because in L.A., you always complain cause there's so many people and traffic's so bad..."

He sighed. He did hate Los Angeles. He remembered being six years old, having to leave behind his home and his friends on the Air Force Base in Illinois for Santa Barbara and hating the place even though he knew nothing about it. First, he'd stayed for his sisters, wanting to be there until they finished high school. Then he'd gotten the great job at CTU. Then he'd met Michelle, with whom he'd decided to leave California for good, but... things hadn't worked out the way he'd planned it. The day the job in Langley fell through was coincidentally also the day his life fell apart.

Michelle noticed he wasn't paying attention. "Tony?"

"Hm?"

"What're you thinking about?"

"Uh, it's nothing, just... Memories." Realizing how that must've sounded to her, he quickly added, "Of my childhood. Moving to California and stuff."

"Oh. Okay." She remembered hearing the story from his mother, who'd also mentioned how everybody on base had been all over the cute, curly-haired boy who ran around, telling people he wanted to be just like his daddy when he grew up.

She thought of how he'd actually done a rather great job at following in his father's footsteps, joining the Marines at age 18, fighting in a war, moving up the ranks as quickly as humanly possible, earning the praise of superiors and the respect of even the older guys in his unit. His dad had always been his hero, the now retired Lieutenant General John Almeida who'd set the bar so high with serving in two wars and commanding a space shuttle mission, all the while being a fantastic dad. And no matter how many times this man had told him how proud he was of his son, Tony'd never believed it. He'd never believed anything positive about himself, always operating under the assumption he wasn't good, strong, smart or brave enough. It made him extremely good at his job, but incredibly difficult to love.

When she came back to the hotel that night, it was already past 11 o'clock and she was still carrying around the two large shopping bags, a result of a slightly confusing mixture of emotions, including loneliness (which only hit her after she'd walked past one too many couples), relief because she didn't need to fight with Tony anymore and if she was completely honest, also a kind of warmth she hadn't felt in a long time. Almost afraid to think about it any further, she ultimately reassured herself that what she was feeling was normal. She'd loved him. He'd been the one she shared her joy with and the one she leaned on when there wasn't any joy left. Yeah, it was completely normal to be at least a little bit happy about seeing someone like that again.

She was on her way to the elevators when she spotted him sitting at the hotel bar with a glass in front of him and decided it was probably much easier to talk to him now than an hour later when he was totally drunk.

Trying to swallow every bit of sarcasm in her, she sat down on the barstool to his left. The bartender quickly noticed her.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Uhh, yeah, umm..." She was trying to think of any drink beside the one stuck in her head right now, but was completely blanking.

The bartender just kept staring at her. Tony looked at her, slightly confused, and decided to jump in. "She'll have a Maker's Mark Manhattan."

Excellent. He'd read her mind. Though it wasn't that hard. She'd never really ordered anything else, unless she was out with her college friends and he didn't need to know they were doing the whole _Sex and the City _enchilada, including Cosmos and revealing every last inappropriate detail about their boyfriends. But that Manhattan had been her drink of choice for everything. Their first date, the night they got engaged, the night before their wedding, when they'd both gotten nervous as hell and decided to go out for a drink at midnight...

_**Flashback**_

_Their mothers never agreed on anything, except for this. The bride and groom staying together the night before the wedding could only mean bad luck, so Michelle was staying at their place, guarded by both moms, while Tony had temporarily moved in with his sister and her husband, who'd been sworn in as guards by Tony's mom._

_After trying to keep busy the entire evening, trying to push aside all fears and possible worst-case scenarios, Michelle couldn't take it anymore and decided to drive the 20 miles to Pasadena. Of course, Diane and Terry couldn't know what was about to happen, so once she arrived, she texted Tony._

_ I'm parked three houses down the road from your sister's. Can you get out?_

_All she got for an answer was "You kidding?" Just seven minutes later, she saw Tony jumping the fence from the back yard and saw him take a quick look around. Then he ran towards the car and jumped into the passenger seat._

_"That was fa..." was all she managed to get out before he kissed her passionately, acting as if he hadn't seen her for weeks, when it actually hadn't been more than 10 hours._

_When their lips parted, he just scoffed, grinned and said, "What do you think? I escaped a bunch of the world's most dangerous terrorists. You really think I couldn't get out of my sister's house?" _

_She laughed. "I was just thinking your mom might've chained you to the bed or something. I just..." she sighed. "I'm nervous." It was a rare moment of being completely honest with herself and him. After all, he was the man she was going to marry and she could - and should - trust him with anything._

_A couple of minutes later they arrived at a small bar they'd been to a couple of times before. They sat down and ordered their drinks._

_"Scotch, two ice cubes." Tony said._

_"Maker's Mark Manhattan, please." _

_The bartender, a scrawny guy who looked like he'd just turned 21, raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that, Ma'am? It's kind of a strong drink."_

_"Thanks for the concern, but I've had it before. And I'm not quite at the 'Ma'am' stage yet, even if I'm getting married tomorrow. Which is also why I'm a little on edge and would really like that drink now."_

_"Uhh, so sorry... Scotch and a Maker's Mark Manhattan, coming right up."_

_Tony grinned. "Poor kid. He'll never second-guess a drink order again."_

_She snickered. "Mission accomplished, then. So, wait... You, the Scotch snob, aren't taking your drink neat today?"_

_"If you remember, we kinda have an appointment tomorrow. And I wanna remember it." He took her hand in his and sighed. "Tomorrow's gonna be a long day."_

_"Well, if anybody's used to that, it's us."_

_The bartender, still looking slightly intimidated, set their drinks down in front of them._

_Tony nodded, took his glass and raised it, Michelle mirroring his motion. _

_"To what should we drink then?" he asked, trying to swallow the 'to us' cliché._

_"To being smarter than our mothers." They both laughed and clinked glasses._

_Of course their mothers had ultimately noticed. And even though they hadn't noticed the car was missing from the parking lot, the man with the dark curly hair who had his arms wrapped tightly around his sleeping fiancée had given it away._

_**End of flashback**_

"So, what did you do with your free time?" he asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

"Umm... I went shopping." she admitted. "Newbury Street's always been my personal hell. What about you?"

"I... I checked out Fenway Park, got hungry, had an extraordinarily good burger and then came back around here and I bought some new running shoes. I think Niketown's my personal hell."

She kept her eyes on him. He looked remarkably sober. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"About an hour. Hour and a half, maybe." _Oh._

Before she had a chance to explain, he must've read her mind and lifted his glass. "My second. Virgin mojito."

She must've looked stupid, her head slightly tilted to the side, jaw almost hitting the bar. _Did he say 'Virgin mojito?' _

His head dropped slightly, realizing he probably had to tell her now. So he downed the rest of his drink, straightened up on the barstool met her eyes. "I... uhh... I quit drinking."

Stunned, all she managed to get out was, "You did?" And as hard as she tried, she couldn't fight the smile on her face. Thinking quickly, she went to hug him before he could see the tears forming in her eyes. She didn't even know if they were happy or sad tears, or what it was right now that she was feeling. Was she proud of him? Angry that it took her leaving for him to get his ass in gear? Disappointed because she wasn't part of this success? Was she just happy for him? With every emotion that rushed through her, she held on to him a little bit tighter and didn't even realize he wasn't letting go either.


	6. Need You Now

Pairing: Tony/Michelle  
>Rating: PG-13 (L)<br>Notes: AU, set about four years after season 3, ignoring season 4.

Disclaimer: They're not mine, they're FOX's. Any mentioned brands aren't owned by me either. The title for this chapter is, of course, taken from Lady Antebellum's song.

When they parted, it didn't even take Tony 10 seconds to figure out the reason for her sudden need to hug him; the tears in her eyes were far too visible for him to miss. Knowing how much she hated crying in public, he took a deep breath, touched her wrist gently and said: "Come on, let's get you upstairs." Looking at the almost untouched drinks, he took a twenty from his pocket and threw it on the bar.

He had barely closed the door behind them when Michelle turned and buried her head in his chest, sobbing. Even though she hadn't done this in several years and he was still slightly confused as to why she was crying, his body seemed to remember - one of his arms going around her waist, the other one resting on her shoulder, hand on her neck, pulling her closer.

After several minutes of standing in the short hallway of the room, Tony maneuvered them both over to the bed and sat down, pulling her with him.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry." she sobbed into his shoulder.

"For what?" He grazed her chin with his index finger, making her look at him.

"For screwing up everything."

"What?

"Stop saying 'what'. We both know it's all my fault. If I hadn't gone into the hotel..."

"Alvers would've escaped. We would never have found Saunders and the remaining vials. They would've released the virus everywhere in L.A. and killed millions of people."

"I... thought I had to prove something."

Confused, he looked at her. "Why would you think that?"

"Because... well, you were kinda treating me like a little girl after you got out of the hospital."

"I was what?" He leaned back, breaking their embrace.

She took a deep breath, sensing he would take it the wrong way, but finally having to say it out loud. "You were being pretty condescending. Like I couldn't do my job without you around."

"Oh, come on. Just because I said you shouldn't have discarded Europe in the investigation?" Of course, back then, right after the meeting, he'd noticed her '_you're hitting the couch tonight, mister'_-look, but he certainly hadn't expected her to be angry about it years later.

"In front of Ryan! And the entire team! Do you have any idea how that made me look?" She'd stood up and was glaring at him now.

"What about you calling me into the conference room and accusing me of being unfit to do my job in front of Ryan?"

"That was a warranted concern about your well-being. Kim came to me and it was my duty to..."

"Your duty? It was Kim. You should've thoroughly checked what she did first! And you were my second-in-command! It was also your duty to have my back!"

"I can't believe we're having this discussion again."

"You know what?! We've never finished this discussion!"

"I can't believe you're gonna be like that again. Fine, you know what? I'm done. I don't have to take this anymore." She got up and stormed back toward the door.

"Just stop running from me!" he tried to sound as firm as before, but couldn't find the strength. She turned around to face him and what she saw defeated the anger and the urge to leave that she'd had up until a few seconds ago. He didn't look angry anymore, just sad and disappointed in himself. Like there was something wrong with him that would drive her away. She let out a quiet sigh and looked down, trying to figure out what he was so preoccupied with. He was leaning against the wall, rubbing the palm of his hand, another one of his nervous habits. She placed her hands over his, stopping the motion of thumb, making him meet her gaze.

"What?" In the sparse lighting of the room, he looked every bit of his 37 years.

"It's not your fault, Tony."

He look at her in disbelief for a second before taking her left hand in his right one. He turned them both around and pinned her arm against the wall in one swift motion, without speaking a single word. She opened her mouth slightly, searching for something to say, but coming up empty. He used the brief moment to cover her mouth with his in a deep, passionate kiss. He let go of her wrist, allowing her to use both hands to run through his hair and tug at it. As her movements grew more frantic and desperate, Tony broke the kiss, locking eyes with her and stroking her cheek.

"Hey." he whispered. "We've got time. Nobody's after us, okay?" She gave him a quick nod.

When their lips touched again, the energy between them changed. Instead of passionate and frantic, their movements were slow and gentle now, like they'd been the first time they'd made love. Back then, they'd been shy, not really knowing what the other one wanted and insecure about where their relationship was heading.

Now, it was pretty much the same, trying to get used to each other again. They moved back towards the living room area of the suite, both of them trying to get rid of as much clothing as possible before they finally fell onto the bed together, Tony on top.

He undid her bra and let her remove it completely while devoting all of his attention to every now-bare patch of skin, kissing the area between her breasts, caressing them with his hands while her fingers were buried in his hair. She was holding onto him tightly, subconsciously afraid he could change his mind any second.

He felt her shaking underneath him. He lifted his head, brushing a few strands of hair away from her eyes, completely focusing on her.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, just..." In that moment, he knew. Her face told him everything he needed to know without her having to say one word.

"Don't worry, I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." She relaxed instantly and pulled him closer towards her with her legs. He slowly pushed inside her, inch by inch, stopping for a brief moment when she moaned a little louder than he was used to.

"Everything okay?"

She nodded. "Stop asking, Tony. It's not my first time, you know." she chuckled.

He grinned, relieved at the lightheartedness she brought to the moment. "Oh, I know."

He started moving slowly, not wanting this to be over any sooner than it had to be. He was propped up on his forearms so he could use his hands to touch whatever part of her body he felt needed to be touched. His lips moved to her neck, down to her collarbone and finally to her shoulder, where he paused for a moment over a scar that still made him shudder.

The day Madsen and his men had taken over CTU and Michelle had been caught in the crossfire. It had been a through-and-through and she was never in any real danger. But her getting shot had been a wake-up call. It was the day he started looking for jobs that would put them both out of the line of fire.

He traced the dark outline of the scar with his thumb and kissed it gently, making her raise her hand to his neck and touch the scar that was the symbol of her own personal horror story.The reminder that a bullet had ripped through his skin right in this spot, almost taking him from her forever.

Noticing her breathing growing more ragged with each one of his thrusts, Tony leaned in for a deep kiss and slid both of his hands underneath her.

In one swift motion, he rolled himself onto his back, her straddling him, giving her full control. She straightened herself up and his hand fell to her waist, steadying her while she started grinding her hips back and forth against his. She slung her head back, biting her lip, not even trying to suppress her moans anymore while he let his hands roam all over her body, trying to touch as much of her as he could get.

"Goddammit, Michelle." She stopped moving for a second, smiled at him mischievously, placed her hands on his chest and squeezed her pelvic muscles, earning a deep groan from Tony who, a second later, retaliated by grabbing her hips and thrusting into her again, her hands and fingernails digging into his chest now. She could feel him tense up and did what she knew would drive him insane instantly - she lowered her upper body on top of his and kissed his Adam's apple.

He could feel his balls tighten and bit down on his lip to try and shift focus, hold out a little while longer until she was ready to let go as well. "Come on, baby." he panted, hoping she was as close as he was. He grabbed her ass with his hands, keeping her even closer. Seconds later, in a frenzy of emotions, surrounded by both of their moaning, she collapsed on top of him, panting and sweating.

Trying to catch her breath, she lay on top of him, listening to his heartbeat. Both of them too exhausted to say or do anything, they spent a couple of minutes in silence until Michelle rolled off of him , snuggling into his side, her fingers drawing lazy patterns on his chest.

Tony put his arm around her waist, pulling her in a little closer and kissing her still slightly damp forehead. The palm of his hand was resting on the small of her back, making him wonder how someone as small as her could have such a huge impact on a life. His life, in this case. He noticed her shivering slightly, so he pulled one of the blankets over both of them. Michelle looked up at him curiously.

"It's cause you always used to get cold after we..."

"I still do." she interrupted him. "I just didn't think you'd remember."

"Oh honey, I remember everything." he sighed, smiling.


End file.
